Train Tracks
by MayaLala
Summary: He had to be careful tonight. If he got too liquored up he might say something dumb to her. Like how gorgeous she looked in that dress and call her things like honey and baby. She'd know then. She'd know then that he'd been thinking about her, a lot. **HBO version of Nick Miller everyone**


**A/N For the past two weeks I've been obsessed with something I read, either a poem or a line in a flash fiction. It was a story that had a cadence to it, a pace. It was rhythmic. It had something to do with a train coming down the tracks and it totally inspired this one shot. Maybe now this will get it out of my system. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.  
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**EYES**

He had agreed to go to the party only because she, well, she begged him to go with her, with those fuckin eyes. Those eyes that he had spent way way too much time thinking about when he woke up in the morning, or went to bed at night, or walked to work, or was at work. In fact he was starting to worry that he might be a bit of a freak because he thought about those eyes more than he thought about anything else, like her body. Which any man would think more about a womans' body than her eyes, right?

It was just her eyes told him everything about her. When she was cold or tired, sad, even hungry. He could gauge what she was thinking and needed in a second if he could see them. Nick had super powers reading Jess' eyes. With a quick joke or tickle to her side, the ends near her hair would lift and the white part inside would twinkle, just the way he liked them. The last few weeks had become an endless barrage of Nick trying to make her laugh, to stop, to stare at him and then smile. Because he swore she was doing that more and more everyday.

So he took a shower and shaved, for her, put on his one and only black suit, white button down and tie and came out of his bedroom to find her coming out. Of her dress. Her boobs, they were coming out of her dress. Oh my fuckin god, now he was gonna think about boobs too. That's all he saw. And thought. So now he had eyes and boobs and seriously, can we talk about deep crimson puckered lips? Because she had that going on tonight too. This was turning into Nick Miller's worst nightmare.

Standing next to Jessica Day at a fancy party at a fancy house with fancy drinks but no beer, was even more ridiculous. He needed a beer. Or seven. And a woman. Or his hand. Damn chicks had it so easy. They could just walk around all twirly and nobody would know. Men on the other hand turned into cave men, grunting simple phrases as their circulation patterns moved more blood to their groin then their brains.

"No, no, I'm fine Jess. I just want a beer, that's all. I'm gonna get a whiskey, you want something, a hot buttered rum?" Hot. Buttered. Rum. Really Nick?

He had to be careful tonight. If he got too liquored up he might say something dumb to her. Like how gorgeous she looked in that dress and call her things like honey and baby. She'd know then. She'd know then that he'd been thinking about her, a lot. He'd been thinking about them, a lot. Doing things, bad bad things together. He thought about those bad things when she smiled, with those eyes. He was simply too obsessed with a pair of blue eyes for his own good. This was getting ridiculous.

Brain in the game Miller. "Can I get a rum and a whiskey on the rocks?" As soon as his fingers wrapped around the tumbler of brown liquor, he pounded it back, burning his throat and his chest and relaxing his crazed blood all the way to his fingers. "Whew, that's what I needed. Can I get another please."

He turned to the party and looked around for the first time. There were men in tuxedoes and women in slinky dresses getting drunk on champage cocktails. None of them held a candle to Jess leaning against the opposite wall in her strapless black gown, skin tight bodice that pushed up her chest, dipping down between the two. Her skirt stopped short, mid thigh, mid bare thigh, kinda shiny* and sleek. Damnit this was a bad idea. He shouldn't be here right now wondering what her thigh tasted like. Fuckin' perve, that's what he was.

Walking back across the party he felt her eyes on him. She had a look tonight that was different, flirty with a cheshire grin. Damn. Act normal Miller, he thought. She took the drink with blood red fingernails and he tried to avoid watching her painted lips fall on the glass, her mouth opening to swallow, down, down her throat.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"No, I'm sorry Jess. I'm fine, I meant fuck this is a fancy party. What are we doing here?"

He knew why they had come he just couldn't seem to remember or care, one of those. She needed a job and this charity thing was filled with some sort of private school money thingy. Whatever. He should try to help her out because right now the only thing he could think about was helping himself out. Seriously cruel of her to wear that dress tonight. She should know better. He was a man, not a blind man. Did she think he wouldn't notice?

They had talked shop all night with overpayed lawyers and doctors that sent their kids to schools with organic lunches and free trade backpacks. Now they sat in the back of a taxi, her with his jacket wrapped around her bare shoulders, leaning into his body, tired and tipsy. Damn she smelled good. Like clean and outside and the next morning all rolled up into woman. That's what her perfume should be called, Woman.

Hobbling out of the taxi he could see her feet hurt. High heels had turned her calves into gorgeous gams but he knew it was a high price to pay. "Come here." His hand slipped down the back of her calf until he reached her black strappies and slipped one off. Looking up to see if that was OK, he met her eyes, piercing dark blue on his face, searching. He swallowed hard because he could see it. He could read what she was thinking cuz he had super powers. But this time what he saw in her eyes was the same as he felt. A snap, a shock, a bolt of lightening. He wasn't stupid, something was coming down the tracks.

Eyes still locked on hers, skin sleek, cold to the touch as his fingers ran down her calf again to take off the other black heel. Now he held two shoes and one hand as they walked silently to the elevator. Silence, loaded silence. Silence with meaning. The elevator bell jarred his thoughts, his heart beginning to pound in his ears once they walked onto the lift surrounded by mirrors and buttons and cold slick steel.

That's when it happened. That's when it all began. When his brain stopped working and his body took over. She was draped on him now with red lips pushing against his. He couldn't think anymore about eyes and boobs and lips, he could only do and move and seriously, she tasted so good. Brain off, body on.

She had turned the elevator off and stared at him with those eyes in a way he had never seen before. The eyes he had fantacized over had changed. These ones were dangerous and focused right on him. So that's when he grabbed her with more force than her tiny frame probably could handle. And yet the moans that poured out of her mouth as his hands reached under her dress told him she was more than OK with this. The groans as his fingers found their mark, told him push into her, harder.

Dizzy and unfocused, he simply touched like he had wanted to for weeks. His mouth on her chest, his hand pulling down the front of her dress to get his tongue to her nipple. He didn't care what he was supposed to do anymore. He just wanted to do it and now he knew she did to.

He sucked her tit hard, she pushed into it so he slid two fingers inside of her, in and out. She clenched tight on his neck and he lost his mind. "Oh my god Jess, holy shit." All week he'd thought about touching her and now his hand was inside her black lace panties, playing with her wet slit like he owned it.

Hands now on his pants, unzipped and pushed down his hips. He was rock hard and it was staring right at her face when she dropped to her knees and took it in her mouth, her red rimmed mouth. "Oh my god woman." Never, ever had Nick gotten it so hot.

When he couldn't wait anymore, he pulled her up by her hair, pushing her up against the elevator wall. Hand pinned over her head, lipstick smeared, eyes glazed, breath heavy. Those eyes, he stared into them, fiercely. They were smoky and blue and half closed. She wasn't bothering to think either. She was only doing, like him. His hand roamed down her body, barely touching her skin until she closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

One hand down her thigh, lifting it to his hip, he pulled her black lace to the side and slipped inside of her, the only slow since the elevator doors had shut. Slow he pushed, slow he slipped into her. She gulped and tightened her grip on his neck, other hand on his ass and then she pulled his whole body hard against hers. "Fast," she whispered. He wasn't thinking anymore, he was just doing. Now he was doing it fast.

They held onto eachother for dear life as bodies pounded, skin against skin, her tongue on his ear, his fingers squeezing her nipple. She felt like warm water and electricity and goosebumps. He shoved his thumb in her mouth and watched her ruby reds suck it. It made him grunt and moan and shove into her as he watched for one last moment before he couldn't anymore. Fingers dug into her thighs, her body clenched onto his, both of them nearly falling to the ground while they held one another and waited until the waves stopped, the shaking stopped and they could breathe again.

He fell out or slipped out. Pants around his ankles like a fool. A fuckin fool for this woman. Now his brain started working again. They had done it. No turning back. Whatever had just happened, had happened to both of them and tomorrow they would have to deal with that.

One last look when he zipped his pants before it was finally over and that's when he saw it. The twinkle, the curved up ends of her eyes. His favorite. A smile on her lips made just for him. A smile in her fuckin eyes, made just for him. Made just for Nick and his super powers.

**-Mayalala**


End file.
